Dancing Through Life
by nibblesfan
Summary: Erik knew exactly what she was from the moment she walked in. She was so much like the man who ruined his life, yet so different in her own way. But the moment he laid his eyes on her, Erik made his decision. He might not be able to get his revenge on the Vicomte de Chagny, but that didn't mean he couldn't take it out on his sister.
1. Chapter 1

"Mia," Raoul groaned. "Surely you realize what a horrible idea this is! I don't know what on earth you were thinking when you decided to become the patron of the Populaire."

"It wasn't my idea," she reminded him. "It was Gaston's. He thought it was a good business deal, and I don't disagree. With all this free publicity, the Populaire will be, pardon the pun, more popular than ever!"

"That madman nearly killed me!" Raoul shouted.

"Raoul," Mia sighed. "You're my darling baby brother, but you've always had a flair for the dramatics, and I've learned to take every single word you ever say with a grain of salt. You've always liked to exaggerate. If you weren't Vicomte, I could honestly see you becoming an actor. No wonder you married Christine."

"I am not exaggerating," he protested. "That opera house is dangerous!"

"Nothing is dangerous about the Populaire, Raoul," she said with exasperation. "I've been there myself. I have seen no sign of your so called 'Phantom'. There were no horribly disfigured men lurking about in the shadows, no hypnotic angels, no nothing. My guess is that one of your precious Christine's former 'gentlemen callers' got jealous and this is your attempt at hiding the truth."

"How dare you speak of Christine in such a manner!"

"You know what she is! She's in show business, and she's attempting to become a star. Do you know what women do in order for a few minutes in spotlight? She's beneath you, and frankly, she's not worth it, Raoul."

Her brother crossed his arms. "I married Christine for love, which is more than you can say about your marriage to Gaston," he snapped.

Mia recoiled from her brother's accusation, but she shook it off. "I know my place Raoul! I married Gaston because he is a wealthy, _respectable_ man, someone who I was expected to marry," she fired back. "Not someone our parents would be embarrassed of."

"So it's my fault that I married someone I loved?"

"Love and happiness aren't everything Raoul!" Mia cried. "Love means nothing We are de Chagnys Raoul. There are expectations, requirements, pressures to be perfect, and we have to deliver."

"No, no we don't," he answered. "Mia, their expectations mean nothing. Who cares what everyone else thinks?"

"I do!"

Raoul sighed. "I don't need your approval, or Mother and Father's, or anyone else's for that matter! Christine and I are happy together and that's all that matters."

"Then you go be happy with her." Mia turned away. "But Gaston has made his decision, and I'm going to support him. I'm not frightened of your stories, because that's all they are: stories."

"Mia, I'm just trying to protect you."

"Who's the older one?" Raoul started to protest, but Mia cut him off. "That's right, me. Which means I don't need you trying to run my life."

"I'm not trying to…"

"Yes you are."

Raoul shook his head. "Whatever happened to you Mia? You never used to be like this."

She turned her back on him. "My decision has been made. Go back home to your theater harlot. I'm already late. I was supposed to meet Gaston at the theater ten minutes ago." Raoul stared at her for a moment, clearly hurt before storming past her and out the door. Mia kept her face expressionless as she watched him leave.

* * *

"So that's him?" Erik asked as he leaned over the edge of the balcony of Box Five to catch a glimpse of new patron. He spotted an unimpressive looking copper haired man. "What's his name?"

"Yes Erik, that's him. Gaston Barineau," Madame Giry replied. "Try not to cause trouble with this one. The managers had an indescribably hard time finding a replacement for the Vicomte."

"He doesn't look like much," Erik commented. "But I suppose as long as he doesn't interfere, I'll leave him alone."

"You'd better," Madame Giry answered. "Because if you screw this up again, then this could very well be the end of the Populaire."

"Do you honestly think that I don't realize that?" Erik growled. "I made one mistake and suddenly it's unforgivable."

"That's because it is!" Madam Giry cried. "You nearly destroyed this place Erik! You fall for a girl you knew you couldn't have and you were still lovesick and stupid enough to pursue her. Do you know how much chaos you caused, how many people you nearly put out of a job? You're lucky that the fire didn't spread further and the damage was repairable."

"I KNOW!" Erik roared. He exhaled slowly and forced his temper back under control. "I know. But I've learned my lesson. No one will ever be able to love the monster. I understand that now."

"Erik, that's not what I meant," Madame Giry said softly. "Someday you'll find love, but kidnapping, threats, and murder isn't the way to go about it."

"No one will ever love me," he said sadly. "I had been Christine's angel since she was seven years old and she still fled from the sight of me. I will never be able to build a bond like that with anyone again. I'm just doomed to be alone forever."

Madame Giry checked the time. "I have to go. Auditions for Prima Donna and lead tenor are starting soon and I'm expected to be there."

"I thought they were going to invite Christine back."

"They did, but naturally she declined. You scared her senseless Erik. And my guess is, whether she wanted to return or not, her husband the Vicomte forbade it."

"Don't bring him up," Erik hissed.

"You asked," Madame Giry reminded him. "Now I have to get down there. Try not to cause too much trouble Erik." He nodded and after she left, he settled into a chair to watch the auditions. After all, he had to make sure they didn't wind up with another Carlotta.

As the auditions began, Erik spotted a lone woman slip in late. Something seemed familiar about her, so he leaned forward, trying to get a better look. His blood began to boil. She looked so much like the Vicomte de Chagny, it wasn't even funny. She had the same sandy blonde hair, the same blue eyes, and even her facial features were similar. Whoever she was, she would not be staying long. Not only did she look too much like the Vicomte, she was late to auditions, and if that wasn't more than enough justification to not give her a position, Erik didn't know what was.

But to his surprise, the girl didn't sit with the other hopefuls who had yet to perform. Instead she walked over to the managers like she owned the place. "No," he whispered as she sat beside patron and kissed his cheek. Surely this girl, the one who looked so much like the man who ruined his life, was not going to stay.

Erik had to know who she was. He snuck out of Box Five and made his way to where they were sitting. Remaining in the shadows, he moved close enough to where he could hear what they were saying without being seen. "What do you think, Amelia?" he could hear the patron ask her as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"I've heard better," she replied. _Well at least she has some semblance of an ear_, Erik thought. The girl who was auditioning right now wasn't terrible, just mediocre.

"What I wouldn't give to have Miss Daaé back," Firmin sighed.

"Madame de Chagny," Andre corrected. He glanced over at the woman. "Perhaps Madame Barineau, you could…"

"No," she replied. "My sister-in-law had no desire to return, and even if she did, I highly doubt my brother would allow it. He seems to believe you have a ghost wandering inside of your walls."

The two managers exchanged a glance. "The Opera Ghost as the some of the more superstitious members of the staff call him, is nothing more than a story, an imaginary figure to blame their own mistakes on. It's just a story," Firmin assured her.

"Well that explains a lot," she said, rolling her eyes. "Raoul's always had this thing with stories. He could've been an actor if he weren't a Vicomte." _Not here, he wouldn't_, Erik thought viciously.

"I can assure you, Madame," Andre continued. "There is nothing you need to worry about."

_Oh but there is._ Erik stared at the woman with renewed interest. If that was the sister of the Vicomte, he had a new target to focus his rage on. He knew that the boy was smart enough to stay far,_ far_ away from here, but this girl was stupid enough to waltz right on in. Just because he couldn't have his revenge on the Vicomte directly didn't mean the girl was safe. In fact, it meant just the opposite.


	2. Chapter 2

Erik did not like this girl, this Amelia Barineau. He had been watching her all day, and his dislike for her had only grown. Not only was she de Chagny's sister, she was arrogant, snotty, and just overall unpleasant to be around. Even if she didn't share a drop of blood with the Vicomte, Erik would want her out of his opera house. Her husband wasn't much better. He spent more time ogling the women auditioning than doing anything useful.

He watched from the catwalks as Andre, Firmin, Madame Giry, Monsieur Reyer, and the Barineaus discuss who was going to get the lead. Erik pulled a cream colored envelope with a red wax skull shaped seal from his pocket and let it flutter down to their group before retreating back into the shadows so it would seem as though the letter would come from nowhere.

"What's this?" he could hear Amelia ask as she picked up the envelope and turned it over. She glanced around and up towards the catwalks, searching for the source of the letter.

"Nothing!" Andre cried.

"Absolutely nothing!" Firmin agreed as he ripped the envelope from her hands and stuffed it in his coat. "Just a stagehand playing practical jokes Madame. They like to fuel their stories of the Opera Ghost, the stupid superstitious lot, through little tricks like this."

"We don't have time for nonsense, Monsieur," Barineau snapped.

"I agree wholeheartedly Sir," Andre said. "I can assure you that we'll talk with them immediately and put a stop to it."

Erik sighed heavily. It seemed like the managers hadn't lost their ability to grovel. _Spineless cowards,_ he thought with disdain. It was time to teach those two insolent fools a lesson. He was still very much in charge and it was time everyone knew it. Erik dashed silently over to mechanism that was holding up the background for the upcoming opera, and with a few tugs on the right ropes, the whole thing went crashing down onto the stage, barely missing the group that was gathered there.

Amelia shrieked and threw herself into her husband's arms. "What the hell was that?" Barineau demanded.

"There's no one up there," Madame Giry announced. "It must be the Phantom."

"It must have been improperly secured," Firmin snapped as he shot a glare at the ballet mistress. "It's not the first time the stagehands have had a problem with that, but I promise you Monsieur, it will be the last."

"What kind of incompetent oafs do you have working up there?" Amelia snapped.

"Rest assured, Madame, we will take care of it."

"You'd better."

_Did nothing faze this woman?_ Erik wondered. She so readily bought Andre and Firmin's excuses. Was she really that desperate for a logical explanation, or just that stupid? He was going to have to step up his game if he was going to scare her off.

"Is everything ready for the Masquerade?" Barineau asked. Erik had forgotten that the managers had planned another Masquerade to celebrate the grand reopening of the Populaire. The corners of his lips twitched upwards. They were just presenting him with opportunity after opportunity to wreak havoc upon Amelia Barineau.

* * *

Mia forced herself to repress a yawn as the managers droned on and on about their stupid party. She was so bored, but of course, she couldn't show that. She had to support Gaston. But God, would those two ever shut up? The most exciting thing that had happened since she had gotten here was the background falling, and that was terrifying, not amusing. Hopefully every day wouldn't be like this once rehearsals had actually started. Otherwise this was going to be unbearable.

Finally she had had enough. She tapped Gaston's shoulder. "I need some fresh air. I'll be back shortly," she whispered. He nodded dismissively, his focus never leaving the managers. Mia forced herself to accept his complete indifference to her presence and left the room. Once she was out, she released a sigh of relief. She had spent a lot of time with longwinded socialites but those two took the cake. All she needed was a minute to compose herself before going back in.

The long hallway stretched out before her, full of doors begging to be opened, rooms just asking to be explored. She tried to repress such childish impulses, but she hadn't been shown this part of the opera house when the managers took her and Gaston on a tour. Eventually her curiosity got the better of her, and Mia caved.

She opened the first door and walked in. Mia looked around her, half in disgust and half in awe. She could tell from the tacky pink wallpaper, the enormous portrait of a terrifying-looking woman with fiery red hair that clearly clashed with her pink dress, and the ungodly amount of costume jewelry, long-dead flowers, and other useless knickknacks that she was in the dressing room of the former Prima Donna, La Carlotta. Apparently the whispers she had heard from the staff were true. Carlotta truly had no taste.

Just as Mia was about to leave, she caught her reflection in the floor-length mirror. She walked closer to the glass, studied her reflection for a moment, before tucking a stray strand of her hair back behind her ear. Suddenly the door swung shut behind her, closing with a soft _click_, making her jump. "Must be a draft," Mia said as she rolled her eyes and laughed at herself before walking over to the door, ready to head back to Gaston. She froze and stared at it before trying to twist the knob again. And again. Mia's eyes widened as she realized the door was locked.

* * *

_This girl is making it way too easy_ Erik thought as he turned the key, locking Amelia in the dressing room. He could hear her on the other side trying to get out, but without the key, she was trapped until someone came to rescue her.

"Hello?" he could hear her call rather pitifully. "Is there anyone there?"

_Nobody that's going to help you._ Erik slipped the key into his pocket and began walking away. It looked like she was going to be stuck there until someone missed her enough to come looking. Suddenly it dawned on him. _Somebody that would miss her enough to come looking._ Erik had been looking for a way to lure the Vicomte back here and now here it was, locked in a dressing room, his for the taking.

He quickly slipped into the nearest secret passage and made his way back to the dressing room so that he was watching her from the other side of the one-way mirror. Amelia had her back to him as she tried the doorknob again and again in vain. Erik reached for the lever to open the mirror. She was so busy attempting to get out, she would never see it coming.


	3. Chapter 3

Erik moved to open the mirror so he could take the girl. She was making this so ridiculously easy. Even when he took Christine during _Don Juan Triumphant,_ he had to spend a few days planning to make sure everything went off without a hitch. But here was Amelia, alone and vulnerable, where no one knew where she was, and to top it all off, she was completely unaware of his presence.

He could just imagine the Vicomte's face when he learned that his sister was missing. Erik knew he would come here and fall straight into his trap. This wasn't just about Christine anymore. This was personal. Erik wanted Raoul de Chagny to suffer for taking his angel away from him, and by killing the Vicomte, he would punish Christine for all the pain and humiliation she had put him through when she had the audacity to rip his mask off in front of all of Paris.

Just before he hit the lever, Erik saw the doorknob turn. He yanked his hand away from the switch as though it had burned him. He hissed in displeasure as the door opened, revealing none other than Meg Giry. "I thought I heard someone in here," the blonde said brightly. "What happened?"

"Thank you mademoiselle," Amelia said with a sigh of relief. "I was on my way back to the theater, when I...I must have taken a wrong turn, and then I somehow managed to lock myself in." Erik raised an eyebrow. Why would she lie about wandering into a dressing room? She hadn't really gotten lost.

Meg's eyes widened. "Oh, you must be Madame Barineau. You and your husband are the new patrons right?" Amelia nodded. "I'm Meg Giry," she said with a curtsy. "My mother is the ballet mistress, and I'm the prima ballerina here."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Giry."

An awkward silence descended on the two. "Well, I'm sure they're looking for you," Meg finally said. "I'll show you the way back."

Erik let out a low growl. He had been so close. For a moment, he wondered if Madame Giry sent her, but he shook it aside. It didn't really matter. It looked like Amelia was going to be here for a long time, and while he doubted he would have an opportunity this ideal again, now he could take his time to construct the perfect kidnapping.

* * *

"_Amelia Marie de Chagny, what on earth do you think you're doing?" her mother shrieked._

_A ten year old Mia glanced over at her younger brother and Christine before looking back at her mother guiltily. "Exploring," she whispered._

"_Get over here this instant!" Mia trudged over, her head hung low. Her mother marched her into the parlor where her father was waiting for them. "Sit." Mia reluctantly obeyed. _

"_Where was she this time?" her father asked with exasperation. _

"_Off with Raoul and that Daaé girl again. I told you she was a bad influence on them!"_

"_We were just exploring," Mia protested._

"_Young ladies do not go exploring," her mother snapped. She turned to her husband. "As good of a musician as Gustave is, I don't think we should allow him or his daughter near the children. He fills their heads with stories and ideas, and that girl's not going to go anywhere in life."_

"_I think Raoul is fine," her father said. "He's only six, still a boy, plenty young enough to still be playing, and there's no one else around his age. But I agree that Amelia is getting too unruly."_

"_But Papa," she started._

"_No buts," he cut her off sternly. "It's time you grew up Mia. You can't spend your days running around and playing like a child. You're a young lady now and you need to act like it!"_

"_There's a boarding school just outside of Paris that specializes in cases like this, or so I'm told," her mother said thoughtfully. "Perhaps it isn't too late to enroll her there."_

"_No!" Mia screamed. "I'll be good! I promise I'll be good." Tears began to stream down her face. "Please don't send me away, Mama. I'll be good!"_

"_This exactly is the type of behavior we're talking about. Young ladies do not snivel or whine like children. I'll send word immediately to see if there's still room for her there."_

"_Please don't Mama," she sobbed. "I'll do whatever you want, just please don't send me away."_

"_ËNOUGH!" her father shouted. "Control yourself Amelia. A woman of your stature needs to be able to control her emotions. Only let others see what you want them to see. You should always appear calm and in control, no matter what the situation. Conceal your emotions, never allow yourself to feel. And above all things, you have to be obedient, whether you like it or not. Do you understand?"_

_Mia nodded, completely defeated. "Yes Papa," she sniffed._

* * *

"Where on earth have you been?" Gaston demanded as Meg led Mia back into the theater. "Do you have any idea how long you've been gone?"

"I know. I'm sorry." She bit the inside of her cheek. Mia knew she couldn't tell Gaston that she had been exploring. After all, it was something only children did. "I took a wrong turn and managed to accidentally lock myself in a dressing room."

"How on earth did you manage to do that?"

"It was an accident," she sighed. "This place is just so big, I got lost. Luckily Miss Giry here was nearby and was able to help me."

"Thank you Miss Giry," Gaston said as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders rather possessively. "Heaven only knows how long it would have taken me to find her. Amelia would lose her own head if it weren't attached to her."

Meg laughed. "Don't worry about it. It was my pleasure to help." She curtsied and headed back towards the ballet dormitories.

Gaston turned to Mia. "How on earth did you manage to get lost?"

"I think I turned right when I should've gone left," she lied. "There are just so many corridors; it's easy to get turned around here."

"Then next time you should stay with me like you're supposed to," he snapped. "Honestly, you shouldn't be going anywhere unaccompanied."

Mia bit back a sharp response. She had been taught to always be obedient, even when she didn't like it. "If that's what you think, dear."

"Of course that's what I think." Gaston glanced over her. "The Masquerade for the grand reopening is in less than a month. You're expected to have a costume."

"I'll speak to the tailor immediately," Mia said with a sigh.

* * *

Within the hour, Mia was at her favorite dressmaker's shop being measured for a new gown. "What color were you thinking Madame?" the dressmaker asked as she wrote down a few measurements.

"Blue," Mia replied instantly. It was Gaston's favorite color. Hopefully it would make him happy. "I haven't settled on a specific shade yet though."

"If you're interested Madame, I just received a shipment of a beautiful royal blue silk that would complement your skin tone perfectly. You could be the belle of the ball."

"That sounds wonderful," Mia said distantly.

"Might I ask what this is for?"

"The grand reopening of the Opera Populaire," she answered. "They're hosting a Masquerade ball to celebrate."

"The Populaire?" the seamstress gasped. "But Madame isn't your brother…?"

"Yes," she sighed. "The Vicomte de Chagny is my little brother."

"Aren't you afraid...?"

"No," Mia replied. "There's nothing to be afraid of."

"But I read in the papers…"

"The papers have to sell," Mia snapped. "That means they have to sensationalize their stories, either through exaggeration or just plain fiction! I have been there myself and there is nothing to fear. This so-called 'Phantom' is nothing more than a superstition that some reporter blew out of proportion. I'm not afraid of anything in that theater!"


	4. Chapter 4

_Hey everybody! Just as an FYI, this is story is going on hold. Not for long at all, just about a week, which isn't long for most stories, but it's a pretty long time for me, since I usually update at least once or twice a week. But I'm off to college in the fall and applications and scholarship essays are due next week, so I need to focus on those. But then I'll be back again and writing in full force! Until then, read and review!_

_~nibblesfan_

* * *

Mia watched as the ballerinas gathered on the stage, all of them twittering with excitement. Everyone was talking about the Masquerade tonight. Even a small part of Mia couldn't wait. There was just something contagious about the ballerinas' excitement.

"You should see my dress!"

"You should see my mask!"

"I can't wait to see everyone!"

"Just think how many handsome men are going to be there!"

Meg Giry was by far the most excited. Mia had learned that she had been a ballerina for the longest here and therefore had been hit by the fire the hardest of all the dancers. The Opera Populaire had been her home since she was a child, so she had been devastated when it was destroyed. She was twirling around, practically bouncing off the walls.

"_The window is open!  
So's that door!  
I didn't know they did that anymore!  
Who knew we owned eight thousand salad plates...?  
For years I've roamed these empty halls  
Why have a ballroom with no balls?  
Finally they're opening up the gates!  
There'll be actual real live people  
It'll be totally strange  
But wow! Am I so ready for this change  
Cause for the first time in forever  
There'll be music, there'll be light!"_

Meg's eagerness was spreading among the ballerinas like wildfire. Another dancer picked up her song dreamily as she waltzed around the stage.

"_For the first time in forever  
I'll be dancing through the night..."_

One of the newer, less experienced dancers took the song as she became the other girl's partner, the two pretending to be at the Masquerade together.

"_Don't know if I'm elated or gassy  
But I'm somewhere in that zone!  
Cause for the first time in forever  
I won't be alone"_

Everyone giggled at her, but Meg, who kept going. "I can't wait to meet everyone!" Suddenly she gasped as a thought struck her. "What if I meet…'The One'?" The ballerinas began to chatter excitedly, dreaming of meeting their true loves.

"_Tonight, imagine me gown and all  
Fetchingly draped against the wall  
The picture of sophisticated grace...  
I suddenly see him standing there  
A beautiful stranger, tall and fair"_

The youngest girls wanted nothing to do with all this talk of true love. They were too occupied with the tables that were being set up for the banquet later that night and with the sweets that they knew they would have later tonight.

"_I wanna stuff some chocolate in my face!"_

Meg was hardly slowed by their interruptions; too busy dreaming about her imaginary suitor.

"_But then we laugh and talk all evening  
Which is totally bizarre  
Nothing like the life I've lead so far!  
For the first time in forever  
There'll be magic, there'll be fun!  
For the first time in forever  
I could be noticed by someone...  
And I know it is totally crazy  
To dream I'd find romance...  
But for the first time in forever  
At least I've got a chance!"_

Mia laughed at their antics before she remembered that they were all acting like children, Meg Giry especially. She wiped her face clean of all emotions, suppressing her amusement. They shouldn't have been playing like this, especially not now, not with the Masquerade in only a few hours. She closed her eyes and began to recite the lessons her mother had taught her.

"_Don't let them in  
Don't let them see  
Be the good girl  
You always have to be  
Conceal  
Don't feel  
Put on a show...  
Make one wrong move  
And everyone will know"_

"Amelia, what the hell are you still doing here?" Gaston demanded when he saw her.

"I was waiting for you," she replied honestly.

"Go home and get ready for the Masquerade," he growled. "I swear to God, if we're late because of you..."

"Don't worry, I'll be ready," she assured him.

"Then go," he snarled. Mia nodded and turned, trying to force away the tears that pricked at the corners of her eyes.

* * *

Erik watched the ballerinas as they laughed and chatted, totally lost in their dreams. He kept his face blank as his real target was directly in front of him. Only he could hear the words she sang quietly to herself. They seemed strange. The other girls were only having a little fun. What did she have to hide? Perhaps there was more to this girl than just de Chagny arrogance. But soon enough, Erik would have ample time to unlock the secrets within Amelia Barineau once he had her in his grasp.

He remained in his hiding place as her husband came storming over from seemingly nowhere. Barineau proceeded to yell at her about the Masquerade, Amelia just kept her head bowed and mumbled a response. Anyone with eyes could see that their marriage was far from a happy one. If that was what she was trying to hide, she was not doing a very good job of it.

Silent as a shadow, Erik followed Amelia through the opera house. She kept her head down as she ran towards the door. Once or twice he thought he saw her wipe away tears. Could this girl really be capable of actual emotions?

As Amelia unknowingly led Erik closer and closer to the door, Meg's song followed them. However, Amelia kept shaking her head and repeating her little mantra over and over again as she ran, the voices of the two girls blending together to form a song of its own.

"_For the first time in forever"_

"_Don't let them in, don't let them see"_

"_I'm getting what I'm dreaming of!"_

"_Be the good girl you always have to be"_

"_A chance to change my lonely world"_

"_Conceal"_

"_A chance to find true love!"_

"_Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know"  
_

As Amelia ripped open the door to opera house and ran down the stairs to her waiting carriage, Meg's voice drifted down, unknowingly finishing the song alone.

"_I know it all ends tomorrow,  
So it has to be today!  
'Cause for the first time in forever...  
For the first time in forever  
Nothing's in my way!"_

The carriage door slammed shut and took off down the streets of Paris, leaving Erik hidden in the darkness. She was gone again. But he could wait a while longer. After all, he had been planning for quite a while now, nearly a month, and tonight was the night. Tonight, after the Masquerade, Amelia would be his.

* * *

Mia closed her eyes as her maid Hazel ran a brush through her hair. "You're going to look lovely tonight Madame. That shade of blue compliments your eyes beautifully."

"Thank you Hazel," Mia murmured softly. She let out a heavy sigh. "I just wish that Gaston would say that for once."

"Monsieur Barineau is very lucky to have found a woman such as you and he knows it," Hazel assured her. "He just doesn't always know how to express his feelings."

"AMELIA!" she could hear Gaston scream from the bottom of the staircase outside her room. "It's time to go. Goddamn it, don't make me come up there!"

She glanced back at Hazel. "He sure has a funny way of showing it," she whispered. Mia wiped her eyes quickly, grabbed her mask, and ran down the stairs to her waiting husband.


	5. Chapter 5

Mia tried to repress a sigh. It was amazing how much longer a carriage ride seemed when she was with Gaston. "You look handsome tonight," she said softly, daring to make eye contact with her husband. He grunted in reply before shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "I was thinking," Mia continued awkwardly. "That perhaps after tonight, we might enjoy a stay at one of the southern estates."

Gaston shook his head. "I've been called away to London for business."

Her eyes widened. "What? When?"

"I just found out." Mia knew what that meant. She could ask any of the servants and they would have known for weeks. It hurt that he didn't feel the need to tell her anything. "I'm leaving straight from the Masquerade."

"How long will you be gone?"

"A few weeks at most," he replied with a shrug.

"Oh." Mia swallowed the lump in her throat. When she was sure her voice wouldn't quiver, she said, "Well Raoul invited me to spend some time with them. Perhaps I'll accept his invitation."

"I'd rather you didn't. You know how I feel about him."

"It's just that with you gone, I thought…"

He cut her off. "The answer is no Amelia." She forced herself to bite back her response. It looked like she was going to be stuck in the house alone, _again._ Mia closed her eyes and didn't speak again until the carriage lurched to a halt outside the Populaire.

"Gaston," she started again softly.

"You heard my answer," he said as he climbed out of the carriage. "And my answer has not changed in the past five minutes." He pulled her out behind him. "So if I were you, I'd try to avoid trying my patience."

She nodded dejectedly before taking his arm. No one could know that the two of them were anything but a happy couple. But then again, there were a lot of things that no one could know. "Barineau!" Andre called. The two managers were waiting at the top of the staircase for them.

"Quite the party, eh?" Firmin said cheerfully as the four walked into the grand foyer where most of the guests had already gathered. "What do you think?"

"It's lovely," Mia answered with a rare smile.

"As are you, Madame," Firmin replied as Andre handed her a glass of champagne.

"Thank you Messieurs." She glanced over at Gaston, who was clearly seething. He was a very jealous man, and even though she knew that the managers were only groveling, but it was definitely bothering his husband. Mia knew she had to get him away before he took this out on her. "How about a dance, darling?" she asked, putting her hand on his arm. Gaston nodded gruffly before grabbing her arm and leading her roughly to the dance floor.

* * *

Erik spotted his target the moment she stepped out of her carriage. Tonight she would be his. He was going to make Raoul de Chagny pay dearly for taking Christine. First he was going to take Amelia, use her as bait, kill the Vicomte, and once she had no further use to him, Erik was going to kill her too. He wasn't about to let her live, not when she shared the blood of his worst enemy.

First though, he was going to have to get her away from her husband. Erik had overheard him telling the managers that he was going to London for a few weeks, so he had more than enough time to lure the Vicomte back here. The trick was separating the couple. Barineau was obviously possessive and it was going to be hard getting Amelia away.

He moved through the crowd completely unnoticed. Instead of his customary white half mask, Erik was wearing the same outfit he wore during the performance of _Don Juan Triumphant_. To avoid attracting attention, Erik rarely stopped moving, and whenever someone looked directly at him or made eye contact, he was gone by the time they did a double take.

After watching the couple for a while longer, Erik noticed that even a man glancing at Amelia was enough to set her husband on edge. He wondered how Barineau would react if someone approached her directly. Erik slipped towards a man who had just finished a dance with another woman. "Do you see the blonde in the blue?" he asked softly.

The man started to turn to look at Erik, who was standing behind him, but he stopped when he saw Amelia Barineau. "Yes," the man breathed. "Yes, I do."

"She's been staring at you all night. "She's waiting for you to ask her to dance. You should ask her," Erik goaded.

"Do you think so?" He was clearly enthralled with Amelia. Erik supposed that if she weren't a de Chagny and the sister of his nemesis, she could be pretty, beautiful even.

"I know so," Erik hissed. "Go ask her." The man whirled around, but Erik had already disappeared into the crowd again. He watched as the man strolled boldly up to the Barineau couple, clearly not paying attention to her husband. Erik smirked as Barineau shoved the man backwards, raising his hand to strike him. Amelia pulled him away, quickly preventing any violence. Barineau grabbed her arm instead and dragged her towards the door.

* * *

"Gaston, will you please calm down?" Mia cried as her husband pulled her out. "He just asked me to dance. I was going to turn him down anyway!"

"You're going home," her husband snarled.

"Darling, please!"

"Enough Amelia! You're going home and that's final!"

She sighed in defeat. "Fine. I was getting bored anyway. Come on darling."

"I told you, I'm going to London after this party. I have to stay for a while longer but then I'm leaving."

"But what about me?" Amelia asked.

"Go home." Gaston left her standing in front of the door, completely bewildered.

Mia felt tears burning her eyes. She swallowed hard and began to push the door open when she heard her name. "Amelia," a nearby voice called softly.

"Hello?" she called back. She looked around, but there was no one nearby. "Hello? Is there someone there?"

"Amelia." Mia followed the voice, determined to find the source. "Amelia." She soon found herself walking down a deserted hallway, chasing the voice. "Amelia." Mia found herself in the same room that she had accidentally locked herself in last month. Again the door swung shut behind her. Mia whirled around and was horrified to see that it was locked again.

"Help!" she screamed. "Somebody help me!" Suddenly, Mia was roughly grabbed from behind. Mia let out another scream, but a sickly-sweet smelling cloth was clamped over her mouth and nose. She tried to twist away, but she couldn't break the iron grip that was holding her. Her surroundings began to spin. Just before she fainted, Mia saw a man wearing a black mask covering his face.


	6. Chapter 6

Erik pulled the chloroform soaked rag away from Amelia's face as she went limp in his arms and stuffed it back into his pocket. She couldn't have made this any easier for him. At least Christine had put up some adversity. But then again, Christine had known he was coming for her.

He ripped the blue mask from Amelia's face and tossed it aside. For the first time, Erik had a chance to study her up close. Everything about her was a feminine version of the Vicomte de Chagny: her porcelain skin, the gentle curve of her face, her bow shaped mouth and pink lips. Erik had to repress the urge to strangle her right then and there for nothing more than her appearance. A dead body wasn't going to lure the Vicomte here, and even if it did, it would only stink up his lair, which meant he was going to have to keep her alive for now.

After opening up the mirror, Erik carelessly tossed the unconscious girl over his shoulder as though she were a burlap sack. She didn't matter to him. Frankly he could care less what happened to her as long as she served her purpose. He needed her alive, but he didn't really care what kind of condition she was in.

No sooner than he closed the mirror behind them, the door to the dressing room slammed open. Erik swore as he realized Amelia's mask was still lying in the middle of the floor, but it was too late. "Is this private enough for you?" he heard a woman purr. Erik recognized that voice. It was Violet Alonza, the new Prima Donna. And when he saw the man she was with, he almost wanted Amelia to be awake.

"It's perfect, chérie," the man replied.

"Now Gaston, where were we?" she purred. Erik raised his eyebrow as the two began to kiss passionately. He wondered if this had started before or after Violet had gotten the position. This had to be Amelia's secret. After all, the world finding out her husband was having an affair would be detrimental to her reputation. But if Barineau had his attentions focused on another woman, it would be even less likely that he would notice Amelia missing.

"Oh, what's this?" Erik swore again as Violet found the mask. He could do nothing but pray that Gaston didn't recognize it.

"Forget about it," Gaston replied without even looking at the mask. "It's probably part of some costume. We've got more important things to do chérie."

"Gaston?" Amelia murmured drowsily. Erik realized that he spent too much time up here and the chloroform was wearing off already. He quickly gave her another whiff of the drug so that she would pass out again and carried her down the passageway.

When he reached the shore of the lake, Erik dropped Amelia into the boat and began to row across the water. It was amazing to him how his plan had gone off practically perfectly, without a single hitch.

* * *

Mia felt sick and drowsy, but she wasn't sure what was going on. Her vision was blurry, but she could feel her body rocking back and forth, as though she were in a boat. She let out a low moan as her stomach rebelled, clearly disliking the rocking.

Finally her gaze was able to settle on a man in a black mask. Mia gasped as she started to remember being grabbed by a man in a black mask. She wasn't sure where she was or who the man was, but she knew she needed to get away. Summoning all of her willpower, Mia began crawl away from the man. Suddenly the ground beneath her lurched to the side, which sent her tumbling headfirst into a lake of icy cold water. She realized too late that she truly had been in a boat.

Mia tried to swim but she was so disoriented, she couldn't tell which way was up, and she couldn't see anything in the murky water. Something grabbed her ankle and began dragging her further down. She kicked frantically, since she knew she was going to drown if she didn't get away soon.

Just as suddenly as she had been grabbed, Mia was released. What felt like an arm wrapped around her waist, hauling her upwards. She gasped for air as her head broke the surface. The next thing Mia knew, she was being dragged onto a stone floor as she coughed and sputtered, trying to get the water out of her lungs.

The now soaking wet masked man was kneeling next to her, panting to catch his breath. Mia had to know who had kidnapped her. She lunged forward, taking hold of his mask and pulling it away. She screamed when his face was revealed. "Damn you, you stupid girl!" he roared. One side was warped and marred, the skin scarred and bulging in places. Mia couldn't bear to look at him. The man twisted his fingers in her hair, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "You shouldn't have done that Madame," he snarled. The disdain he had for her was clear in the way he said _Madame_. "Because now you've unleashed the monster."

He grabbed her wrist and began to drag her towards a black swan statue. Mia's eyes tripled in size when she saw the pillows and sheets. It wasn't a statue, it was a _bed_. "No! Please Monsieur, I'll do whatever you may want, just not that!" Mia pleaded. The man flung her backwards onto the bed and planted his knee on her stomach, successfully pinning her down. He reached for his belt, but instead of undoing it like she feared, the man grabbed a noose. Mia wasn't sure if this was any better of an alternative.

However, instead of putting it around her neck, the man threw the looped end of the noose over the swan's head and tied her wrists together with the other. Mia struggled against him, but the more she fought, the tighter the rope became. Satisfied with his work, the man stood and walked away.

A few minutes he reemerged in dry clothes, black pants, a loose-fitting white shirt that exposed his chest, and instead of the black mask, he was wearing a white mask on half of his face. "Who are you?" she asked, hating herself for the quiver in her voice.

"Isn't it obvious?" he demanded. "Hasn't your brother told you all about the demon that lurks beneath the Opera Populaire? Haven't the ballerinas told you the story of the deformed madman who preys on the innocent? I, Madame, am the infamous Phantom of the Opera!"

"No, no you can't be," Mia protested. "The Phantom's just a story."

The man backhanded her hard across the face, making her cry out in pain. "I am no story! And you would be wise to hold your tongue. I hold your life in my hands. Don't give me an excuse to wring your pretty neck."

"What do you want with me?" Mia asked as tears began to slide down her cheeks. "What did I ever do to you?"

He leaned in so that their lips were less than a hair's breadth apart, and whispered so that his voice was barely audible, sending chills down her spine. "You came to my opera house."


	7. Chapter 7

Erik sat at his desk, writing a letter to de Chagny. He wanted the Vicomte to know he was walking into a trap so that he could have pleasure defeating him anyway. He wanted the Vicomte to suffer. He wanted Christine to know that this could have been prevented if she had just chosen him. After finishing his letter, Erik signed it with his customary _O.G._ and sealed it with a red wax skull.

"He's not coming," Amelia called from the bed where she was still tied up.

"Of course not," Erik replied. "I don't care about your husband. Why do you think I waited until he was leaving the country?"

"I meant Raoul. He isn't going to come, despite what you seem to think."

Turning around to face her, Erik could see that her eyes were closed and her cheeks were stained with tears. "And what makes you think that?"

"Well, for starters, he hates me. Second of all, he's too busy screwing his little opera whore to care about what's happening to me."

The instant the insult was out of her mouth, Erik was on his feet, his hand wrapped tightly around her throat. Amelia's eyes were as wide as saucers and her wrists strained against the lasso as she struggled to breathe. "Never _ever_ insult Christine again. Do you understand me?" he hissed. Amelia nodded as her face began to turn blue. Just before she fainted, Erik released her.

"So it's true," she said as she gasped for air. "You're in love with her too. I don't understand what anyone could possibly see in her. She's selfish and will use anyone to serve her own purposes."

Erik grabbed her neck again. "What part of 'never insult Christine again' didn't you understand?" he demanded. "She is more innocent, kind, and pure than a selfish brat like you could never be."

"She used you to become famous just like she's used my brother to get his wealth and title," Amelia squeaked as he slowly cut off her air supply again.

"Christine would never," he snarled.

"Then why isn't she here with you?" Amelia questioned.

That struck a nerve in him. Erik had never thought Christine capable of manipulating anyone, much less him. Then he realized that Amelia was just trying to get under his skin. This was the foolish de Chagny bravery. He wondered how this woman who was terrified of her own husband could possibly stand up to him. "You realize that I can kill you easily. All I have to do is squeeze." To emphasize his point, he did just that.

Amelia held his gaze. "I don't fear death," she rasped.

He reluctantly loosened his grip, knowing that he needed to keep her alive. "You should," he replied, running his fingers down her neck and tracing her collarbone, almost sensually. Amelia shivered under his touch. For a moment, he thought it was from fear, or perhaps something more, but then he realized that her teeth were chattering. "Cold?" he sneered.

"Perhaps," she said, trying to feign indifference, but Erik could tell she was trying not to shiver in front of him. "But a gentleman would never tie up a lady after she's been dumped in a lake of freezing water and is in a soaking wet dress."

"I'm no gentleman," he hissed. Erik allowed his fingers to lightly trace the laces on the front of her dress. "But if this dress is such a bother, I'm sure we can come up with another solution." Amelia inhaled sharply as she tried to squirm away. While he really didn't want to help her, Erik also didn't want her dying of pneumonia either, so he went to fetch her something dry to wear.

* * *

Mia let out a sigh of relief as the Phantom left. Once he was out of sight, she turned her attention to the rope around her wrists. She began to struggle in an attempt to slip free. If she could just get one hand loose, she'd be able to untie herself and hopefully escape before he came back. But the Phantom had tied her up so tightly and her body was shivering violently from the cold.

"Are you finished yet?" Mia shrieked in surprise as she realized the Phantom was once again beside her. "Because you're not going to be able to untie that knot. Only someone who knows the secret can untie it, and I had to travel all the way to Persia to learn it."

She leaned back against the wooden neck of the swan in defeat. "I had to try didn't I?"

He leaned over and within seconds, her wrists were free. Mia glanced at towards the lake, considering her options. Swimming was out of the question. Whatever was in the water would most likely try to drown her, and the Phantom probably wasn't going to save her again. What were the chances she could make it to the boat? "Don't even think about it," he snarled.

The Phantom grabbed her arm, pulling her off of the bed roughly and dragged her deeper into his lair. Mia knew she couldn't fight his strength and just gave up, letting him lead her. He brought her into a bathroom. The tub was full of bubbles and water, steam curling off the top. The Phantom shoved something white into her hands. It turned out to be a cotton nightgown. Mia took one look at it and shook her head. "Surely you have something with longer sleeves."

"I'm sorry _Madame_, but the selection I have is rather limited, especially compared to what you're probably used to." The disdain in his voice was clear.

"But it's cold," she whined. Mia knew she was sounding like a spoiled child, but she couldn't wear short sleeves. Not even here.

"Get over it," he growled. "I'll be back in twenty minutes. It would be wise to be finished by then."

As soon as he closed the door behind him, Mia locked it before beginning to rummage through the bathroom. She was looking for a razor, anything sharp, just something she could use as a weapon. Maybe, just maybe she could fight her way out. However, the only things that could even be remotely useful were a few glass bottles. Mia considered smashing one because then she'd have something sharp, but she knew it would be nearly impossible to get close enough to the Phantom to hurt him enough to get away.

Feeling defeated, Mia climbed into the bath. The hot water helped her to stop shivering and helped her relax a bit. For the first time since she had been brought here, she had a moment to think about her situation. She was trapped; the Phantom's captive to lure Raoul here to his death. Gaston was off to London as of last night which meant she was on her own. She was going to have to do whatever she could to free herself and keep Raoul away from here. Mia was going to have to convince the Phantom that Raoul wouldn't come, escape on her own, get him to release her, seduce him, do something, _anything_, but she had to keep her baby brother safe.

There was a banging on the door. "I'm opening the door," she heard the Phantom yell.

With a pounding heart, Mia realized that her twenty minutes must be up. "No, wait!" she cried, leaping out of the bath. "Just give me two more minutes!" She haphazardly dried herself off and yanked the nightgown on. Mia snatched a comb off the vanity and began to run it through her hair as the door slammed open behind her.

"Your time is up." Mia dropped the comb and hugged herself tightly as he drew near. The Phantom grabbed her upper arm and dragged her back to the bed. She noticed that the wet black sheets had been replaced with red satin ones.

He threw her onto the bed and moved to grab her wrists to tie her up again. "No, wait, I won't run away," Mia promised. "You don't have to do that. You know full well that I've nowhere to go." The Phantom stared at her suspiciously for a moment before leaving her. Mia closed her eyes as she nestled under the sheets, celebrating her tiny victory. This one small step might be a head start towards escape. Besides, she might be a captive, but she knew she couldn't ever let anyone see the scars.


	8. Chapter 8

Erik crept closer as Amelia slept. He wondered how she could sleep so easily knowing she had been kidnapped. She seemed rather at peace. Amelia had cocooned herself in the blankets and her chest rose and fell steadily. It unsettled him. No one in her situation should be that relaxed. He wanted to wake her and demand what on earth was wrong with her.

There were a lot of things that Erik didn't understand about Amelia. She didn't seem to fear him but was terrified of her own husband. How was that possible? Without thinking, Erik brushed his fingertips against her cheek. She shuddered and turned away from him. Amelia Barineau was a puzzle, one he was determined to figure out.

But first things first, he needed to make sure that the managers hadn't destroyed his opera house with their Masquerade. The parties at the Populaire were known to get rowdy in the later hours of the night, and Erik wanted to see how much destruction the drunken revelry had caused. And he wanted to be back before Amelia woke up in case she tried anything stupid again.

He found the managers in their office with Madame Giry and, much to his surprise, Barineau. There was something slightly disheveled about him, like a man who hadn't spent the night in his own home. Erik had seen men like that before, specifically the ones who spent a little too much time with some of the more promiscuous ballerinas. It appeared that his late night with the Prima Donna had gone beyond her dressing room.

"When did you say you were leaving Monsieur?" Firmin asked.

"Tomorrow, at first light," Barineau responded.

"And when do you return?"

"Don't worry, I'll be here for the grand reopening," he assured the managers. Erik knew that the opera house was officially reopening with the premiere of _Romeo and Juliet_ in less than two weeks. Amelia didn't think he was coming back for at least a month. It looked like Barineau had built some time into his trip for his mistress. But luckily for Erik, it also meant that Barineau still wasn't going to return to his own home before then and risk exposing his affair to Amelia so Erik still had about a month to enact his plan.

With things seemingly going smoothly for once, Erik decided he needed to get back down to Amelia before she tried to drown herself again, or worse. But since she was so concerned about the cold, he slipped into the costume closet and stole a long-sleeved dress from an old production that looked about her size. It wasn't that he cared about her well-being; he just didn't want to listen to her whine anymore. And even if he wanted to care, which he didn't, it didn't matter because she was only a pawn in his plot to kill the Vicomte.

* * *

_Please think I'm still sleeping, please think I'm still sleeping_, Amelia pleaded silently in her head as she sensed the Phantom hovering over her. What could he possibly want from her now? She instinctively flinched as his fingers suddenly brushed against her cheek, since every time he touched her his intent was to cause pain. To hide the fact she was awake, Mia rolled over and wrapped herself tighter in the blankets, praying he would leave her alone.

After what seemed like an eternity, his looming presence left. A few more minutes later, she heard the soft splash of oars on water. So he was leaving, but where was he going and for how long? When Mia couldn't hear him rowing anymore, she rolled back over and opened her eyes as far as she dared. When she was certain he was gone, Mia climbed out of the bed.

She needed to find an escape route, a weapon, anything that could possibly get her out of here before the Phantom had a chance to hurt Raoul. Mia began rummaging around her captor's desk. She gasped when she found a letter addressed to _Monsieur Le Vicomte_. There was only one person that could be addressed to. Mia glanced over her shoulder to make sure the Phantom wasn't heading back this way for any reason before breaking the seal and reading the letter.

_It seems to me that you have forgotten something rather important at my opera house. In fact, that something has managed to find her way into my lair. So if you wish to see your sister alive again, you'll come and collect her. I'll accept nothing for her safe return other than Christine resuming her rightful place at the Populaire by my side, the sole exception being perhaps your life. The choice is yours, but be warned, if you attempt to come near my home with anyone other than Christine, Amelia Barineau's blood is on your hands._

_O.G._

Mia's hand covered her mouth in shock. The Phantom had to know that Raoul would never bring Christine back here for any reason. And even if Christine did return, the Phantom would attempt to kill Raoul anyway. But both she and the Phantom knew that Raoul was brave and bullheaded enough to attempt to storm the lair and single handedly try to save her. Obviously that was what the Phantom was counting on.

She quickly found a blank sheet of paper and a pen and began to write a letter of her own. Mia couldn't let Raoul risk his life for her. Not when she brushed his aside warnings so carelessly.

_I'm sure I surprised you there, huh little brother? You would not believe the trouble I had to go through to find something as simple as a skull shaped seal for my little practical joke. Apparently they're not that appealing? Anyway, everyone says that your so called "Opera Ghost" seals his letters with a red skull. I just hope this one was close enough to fool you for a moment. Anyway, I'm writing this letter to let you know that Gaston and I are travelling to London for a few weeks. He has a business proposition of some sort there; you know I never pay attention to these sorts of things. However this means I'm going to be out of contact for the next couple of weeks, so don't panic if you don't hear from me._

_Mia_

After signing the letter with a flourish, Mia quickly stuffed her letter into the envelope, and pressed a dot of fresh wax on the envelope to reseal the letter. She put the envelope back where she found it and grabbed the Phantom's letter so that she could destroy it.

Just as she was about to rip the letter apart and drop it in the lake, Amelia could hear the oars of the boat. He was coming back! Mia glanced at the letter in her hands and realized that she did _not_ want to find out what the Phantom would do to her if he found out she had switched the letters.

She ran deeper into the lair, and soon found herself in a room full of books, the Phantom's personal library. Mia looked around wildly as she heard the Phantom's footsteps heading in her direction. Out of desperation, Mia grabbed a random book off the nearest shelf and stuffed the letter in.

As soon as she put it back, the door opened, revealing the Phantom. Mia hugged herself tightly and backed up into the corner. "What are you doing in here?" he snarled.

"I...I..." Her stomach growled loudly. Mia gave an inward sigh of relief at having an excuse. "I'm hungry," she said quickly. "I was looking for something to eat and I found this room instead."

The Phantom rolled his eyes. "Spoiled child," he murmured. "Can't stand to have an empty stomach for even an hour." He threw a wad of spring green silk at her. "I found you a dress. It might fit; it looked about your size."

"And if it doesn't?" she asked timidly.

He shrugged. "Oh well. Go change, and perhaps I can find something for you to eat." Mia held her breath as she passed him to retreat into the bathroom, and once the door was shut behind her, she let out a sigh of relief. She had gotten away with the swap.


	9. Chapter 9

Erik was confused by Amelia, and he began to pace uneasily as she went off to change. Last night, she didn't seem to fear him at all, even staring into his eyes as he threatened to kill her, but now she was tip-toeing around him, barely able to even look in his direction. Was she finally accepting reality or just showing her true colors now?

Something wasn't right. She was hiding something, and he needed to know what. As he passed his desk, his letter to the Vicomte caught his eye. Erik picked it up and stared at it for a moment. Amelia didn't matter, he reminded himself. She was a piece of his game, bait to lure the Vicomte back, nothing more. She could be hiding the fact that she was the long-lost queen of France for all he cared, but Erik was not going to allow her to be a distraction. And that meant he needed to quit thinking that he needed to know everything about her, because in the end, she was nothing.

He walked up to the bathroom door and flipped the lock, trapping Amelia inside. "Hey!" Erik could hear her cry. The doorknob began to rattle as she tried to open the door. "Let me out!" Amelia began to bang on the door. "What are you doing?"

"I have a message to deliver," Erik answered vaguely. "And this is to keep you from getting into things you shouldn't be in."

"No, I won't," Amelia whimpered. Her voice was quickly taking on the tone of a small child. "I promise I won't. Just let me out. Please?"

Erik felt the corners of his lips turn upwards. This was more like it. He was in control now. "The thing is," he hissed. "I don't believe you."

"Wait!" Amelia screamed as he walked away. The banging grew louder. "Please!"

"Perhaps I'll let you out when I return," Erik called over his shoulder. Leaving Amelia locked in the bathroom, Erik pushed aside a curtain, revealing a secret passage, the very same one he had used to escape the night of the fire. The passage led out to a rarely-used back alley behind the opera house, perfect for Erik to come and go without being spotted.

Once Erik felt the warmth of sunlight, he pulled his hood up to shield his face, and more importantly, his mask, from view. Careful to avoid the more populous roads, Erik eventually found himself in the neighborhood of the Vicomte de Chagny. He found a young boy, perhaps about ten, wandering the streets. Erik tapped his shoulder. "Boy, do you know where the Vicomte lives?" Erik asked.

The child nodded. "Oui, just up the road Monsieur, in the biggest house."

"I will give you ten francs if you take this letter up to his house for me right now."

His eyes widened at the thought of that much money for such a simple task. "Really?"

Erik nodded, pulled out the money, and handed the bills and the letter to the boy. "Tell them to give it to the Vicomte. Tell them that it's very important and he must see it right away."

"Oui Monsieur," the boy said before taking off in a sprint up the street. Once the boy was out of sight, Erik turned and retreated for the darkness of his home.

* * *

Raoul looked up as someone knocked on his study door. "Come in," he answered.

The door opened and a maid walked in. "Sorry to disturb you Monsieur, this letter was just delivered for you. They said it was urgent and you needed to see this right away."

He stood and met her halfway across the room to accept the letter. The letter was addressed to _Monsieur le Vicomte_, but there was nothing else on the front. Raoul turned it over and froze when he saw the red skull seal. "Mia," he gasped. He looked up to the departing maid. "Who delivered this?" he demanded.

She whirled around back around, obviously startled. "What?"

"The letter!" Raoul shouted. "Who delivered the letter?"

"I…I…I don't know, some boy," she stammered. "He was just a child." Raoul ripped open the letter and read its contents. Something wasn't right. Mia's letter said this was nothing more practical joke, but the seal on the envelope was clearly the Phantom's. Was this her cry for help? "Monsieur?" the maid called as he ran out of the study.

"Raoul?" He stopped and turned to face Christine. Her eyes were full of worry. "What's going on darling?" she asked. "Is everything alright?"

He swallowed hard. "I think Mia might be in trouble," he replied honestly.

"What do you mean?"

"I just got a letter from her," Raoul explained. "It said that she was going to London."

"Then what are you so worried about?" Christine asked, putting a comforting hand on his arm. "It sounds like she's perfectly fine."

"It was so strange," he continued. "She said not to worry, but it didn't sound like her. And Christine…" He held up the envelope, showing her the wax skull. Her hands flew to her mouth in shock. "She said it was just a practical joke, but I don't know how she could replicate that. I think this is her way of trying to tell me she's in danger."

Christine's eyes grew wide. "You're going to go after her aren't you?"

Raoul nodded. "I have to. She's my sister. She needs me."

Her eyes welled up with tears. "He'll try to hurt you again, won't he?"

"Probably," he answered. "But I can't just leave her."

She put her hand on his cheek. "Just promise me one thing," she whispered. Raoul put his hand over hers and nodded. "Don't do anything until you know for sure that he has her. Do not, under any circumstances, put yourself in danger if you don't have to, because you know he'll kill you if you give him the chance."

"I promise, Christine," Raoul replied. "I love you."

Christine hugged him tightly, clearly trying very hard not to cry. "I love you too. Be safe."

He leaned in and kissed her. "I will." Raoul ran down the stairs and summoned his driver to prepare his carriage.

Within minutes, he was in front of his sister's house. Raoul began to knock on the door frantically. "Hello?" he called.

"Can I help you Monsieur?" a servant asked, finally opened the door.

"Mia, where is she?" Raoul demanded.

"Not here Monsieur."

Raoul felt his heart begin to race. "Let me speak to Gaston immediately."

"He's not here either. Monsieur Barineau is in London for the next several weeks," the servant answered.

"Is my sister with him?"

The servant nodded. "I have absolutely no reason to believe otherwise. They left together last night, and neither of them have returned. Why? Is there something wrong?"

Feeling a surge of relief, Raoul shook his head. "Nothing that can't wait until she returns. But please let me know when she arrives home."

"Absolutely Monsieur. Have a nice day." Raoul couldn't help but feel extremely irritated as the door closed. This was nothing more than a cruel practical joke, like Mia had said in her letter. It had to be only chance that she found a seal so similar to the Phantom's. He was going to wring her neck when she returned.

Christine ran out the door the moment Raoul stepped out of the carriage and threw herself into his arms, clinging to him tightly. "Is Mia alright?" she asked.

Raoul nodded. "She's fine. She's with Gaston in London."

* * *

Mia let out a heavy sigh. She began to bang her head backwards against the wall out of frustration. She had been sitting here for over an hour waiting to be released, but it sounded like the Phantom still had yet to return. She knew he was delivering her letter to Raoul, but all she could do was hope that was all he was doing.

The Phantom utterly confused her. Sometimes her tears let her gain a little ground, sometimes screaming and holding her own let her gain a little ground, and sometimes neither worked. She needed to come up with a strategy that was effective. Mia reached up and gingerly touched the fresh bruises on her neck; she needed to come up with a strategy that avoided getting hurt.

She glanced up as she heard the lock click. The door opened, revealing the Phantom. He smirked at the sight of her sitting on the floor, waiting for him. "Miss me?"


	10. Chapter 10

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Erik demanded as he heard the sound of soft footsteps behind him. He turned and saw Amelia staring at him. "Sit back down," he ordered. She ignored him and continued to head deeper into his lair. Erik stood and grabbed her arm. "I said _sit back down_."

She tugged out of his grip and pushed past him. "I have been sitting here for three days, _three days_, doing nothing but listening to you bang on that stupid organ, waiting for Raoul to come. Well guess what? I told you already, he is not coming. But since you can't seem to get that through your thick skull, the least you can do is let me read a book while I wait."

He followed her angrily as she let herself into his personal library, and glared at her from the doorway as Amelia began to go through his collection. She ignored his dirty looks and perused the books, pulling one off a shelf every so often and flipping through it. "Half of these aren't even in French," she sighed.

"No," Erik answered. "Because French is far from the only language I speak."

"What else do you speak?" Amelia asked casually, thumbing through a random book. She studied the words on the page. "I think this is Italian, but that's no surprise seeing as you're the Opera Ghost. That brings up another question I've had. What am I supposed to call you? Because I refuse to call you 'Phantom'."

"Monsieur will do," he replied coldly.

"Well _Monsieur_ doesn't answer my question about the languages," she said, putting the book back and pulling down another. Erik noted that her tone when she said 'Monsieur' held the same amount of sarcasm his did when he addressed her as 'Madame'.

"Besides French, I can speak English, Italian, Russian, and Arabic to name a few."

She glanced sideways at him, her lips turned slightly upwards. "Just a few? So you're an educated man as well as talented. Interesting." Erik raised his eyebrows. Talented? Apparently his 'banging on that stupid organ' wasn't as bothersome as she tried to make it seem. He shook his head, trying to clear it. He knew what Amelia was doing. She was trying to flirt with him so that he would feel guilty and let her go.

"Did you find something suitable Madame?" he snarled, trying to maintain in control of the situation.

"Not yet," she replied cheerfully, pulling out another book.

Erik knew she was taking her time simply to push him, and he had had enough. He grabbed her arm, twisting her away from the books. "You try my patience," he growled.

"Well obviously you need to work on that then," Amelia replied, turning back to the books and picking up one that she had put back twice already.

He yanked her back around, his hand going to her throat. "Don't trifle with me girl."

Amelia kept her gaze steady. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Then you're a fool," Erik replied, throwing her backwards against the bookshelves. "Do you know what I could do to you, silly girl?"

"You're capable of a lot of things," she answered slowly, rubbing her hip as though it pained her. "But a lot of people are. That doesn't mean that you'll do anything. You're not as scary as you think you are. On the outside you're big and mean and tough, but on the inside you're just alone and scared and vulnerable."

Erik took a menacing step towards her. "You know _nothing!_"

"The fact you keep denying it tells me that I'm right." Erik lunged at her, but before he could lay a hand on her, Amelia held up a small book. "Why's this one blank?"

For a moment, Erik was caught off guard. He hated how Amelia could switch subjects on him like this. How she could stay so calm and collected. It told him one thing though; her tears were most likely fake, a desperate attempt to gain pity. "I believe it was meant to be a journal," he answered.

"You believe?"

"I didn't buy it," Erik replied. "Someone else must've given it to me as a present."

"Who?" Amelia asked in surprise.

"A friend," he snapped.

"You have friends?" Erik shot her a glare that would shatter stone. Amelia glanced back down at the book. "So I can use this?"

"For what?" Erik demanded. "For the deepest, most innerpersonal thoughts of Amelia Barineau?"

"Well actually, I used to write poetry. It's something I'd like to get back into, and now that I've got nothing but time on my hands, I might as well."

"No."

"Why not?" Amelia asked. "It's not like you're using it."

Erik crossed his arms. "No book, no matter how unused, should ever be subjected to subpar poetry written by a talentless little girl who thinks she can write it simply because she's bored."

"So you'll think about it?"

This girl was infuriating. "Will it shut you up?"

She gave him an impish smile. "For now at least."

"Fine." Amelia clutched the book in her hand and strode triumphantly from the room, a smirk on her face as a steaming Erik trailed behind.

* * *

Mia was pretty sure the Phantom had bruised her side when he pushed her into the shelves. It was throbbing painfully but she ignored it. _Conceal, don't feel,_ she reminded herself. _Don't let the pain show._ Besides she had more important things to worry about. Mia glanced down at the book, hoping the Phantom didn't see the letter tucked within its pages.

But on the upside, she had a chance to write poetry again. She remembered that fateful day when her mother banned her poetry. That day was still seared into her memory, the memories never once leaving her mind.

"_Amelia Marie de Chagny!" her mother screamed as Mia's bedroom door slammed open. Mia watched fearfully as her mother stormed in. "What on earth do you think you're doing?"_

"_I'm…I'm reading," she stammered, holding up the book. _

_Her mother snatched the book out of her hands. "Poetry again?" Mia hesitantly nodded. "Now you listen to me young lady. I've had enough of this poetry nonsense. This is the third school in less than two years! I am running out of places for you to go! No one will take such a hopeless case! You act out, you have a complete lack of respect for anyone, and all you ever do is waste your time with that damned poetry!"_

"_It helps me!" Mia protested. "Please Mama, you have got to understand…"_

"_Yes, it helps you become a nightmare!" Her mother began to pace. "You are completely hopeless Amelia. You have no hope for a decent future. You have no decent education because I can't get a school to keep you long enough, you are the least ladylike girl I have ever seen, and to top it all off, the only thing that could ever be used for marriage negotiation is your name."_

_Mia felt tears burning her eyes, but she pulled another book from her nightstand drawer. "You remind me every single day, Mama," she whispered. _

"_I'm sick of this, Amelia!" Her mother yanked the other book out of Amelia's hands and threw them both into fireplace. _

"_No!" she screamed, lunging forward towards the fire. _

"_Sit down." Her mother grabbed her shoulder and pulled her backwards. She then went through the rest of Mia's books, pulling each book of poetry off the shelf and tossing it into the flames as Mia watched in horror. After she was done with the books, she methodically destroyed all of Mia's journals and carefully handwritten poems. _

"_You can't do this!" Mia cried as tears streamed down her face._

"_It's for your own good," her mother replied. "And if I see you with any more of that nonsense, you know exactly what's going to happen to it." Mia buried her face in her pillows and began to sob._


	11. Chapter 11

Erik watched Amelia out of the corner of his eye. She had spent the past week pouring over that book, writing and rewriting. It amazed him how much time she spent with it. But it kept her out of his hair while he composed and it kept her whining to a minimum. Amelia glanced up, and when they locked eyes, her face turned a violent shade of red and she quickly buried her face back in the book.

He felt his lips twitch upwards at the sight. Erik had never seen someone so focused on something like Amelia did with her poetry. Perhaps if she spent so much time writing, there was some semblance of talent to be had. Then again, maybe she was just bored. But Erik didn't know; he couldn't get his hands on it to see. Amelia kept hold of it at all times, even hiding it under her pillow when she slept.

Suddenly he shook his head violently. Amelia wasn't a toy for his amusement. She was only here to bait the Vicomte and so far she was failing miserably at that. It had been over a week and a half so far and there was no sign of him. He was starting to get nervous. Barineau would be returning soon and eventually would notice that Amelia was missing, mistress or no mistress.

The lair felt too confining. Erik needed some air. It was time to pay a visit to the managers and check to see how progress was coming on the new production. "I'm going out," Erik announced. "And if you so much as move from that spot, I'll wring your neck."

"Where am I supposed to go?" she asked. "You're taking the boat."

"Do you want me to tie you up again? Because I will," he threatened. Amelia shook her head quickly. "That's what I thought."

When he reached the surface, Erik watched rehearsal from his normal place in Box Five. Opening night was tomorrow and everything needed to be perfect. As he watched, everything seemed to be in place and running smoothly. Good. The managers had learned their lesson.

Erik was just about to head back down when he spotted an unexpected, and frankly, unwelcome surprise. He hissed in frustration as Erik realized Barineau was back already. The Vicomte needed to come soon if he was going to pull this off without Barineau noticing.

* * *

As soon as the Phantom climbed into the boat and was out of sight, Mia dropped her book and quickly began exploring, attempting to find another way out. After all, having to paddle back and forth across a lake every time you wanted to leave was impractical. And if the Phantom escaped the angry mob, he had to have another way out.

There were several large red curtains that Mia had always been curious about. Why would he have those? What was he hiding? She pulled one aside only to reveal a broken mirror. The next several were the same thing, nothing but shattered glass that only further broke her hopes for a chance at escape. Mia had just about given up when she glanced behind the last one.

Her heart began to race as Mia realized she had discovered his secret exit. She wasn't sure where it led or whether or not it was safe, but it was her only way out. Would she risk whatever tricks the Phantom had planted in an attempt to get out or take her chances by staying here?

Before she had come to a decision, Mia heard the splash of oars on the water. How had so spent so much time dwelling on what should have been a simple decision? It was too late. If she ran now, he'd know how she had gotten out and would come after her. No, she decided. The next time he left her alone, she'd escape. But for now, Mia knew it was there in case of an emergency.

Just as the Phantom came back into view, Mia sat back in her usual spot and buried her face back in the book, resuming work on her latest poem. He gave her a suspicious look before going back to his organ to continuing to work on what Mia could only assume was an opera of his own.

From what she was learning, surviving the Phantom meant surviving a battle of wits, and if she lost, he hurt her, with the potential for far worse. Well, if was a battle he wanted, it was a battle he'd get. Mia knew if she stood a chance here, she was going to have to get inside the Phantom of the Opera's head.

* * *

"Raoul's not coming," Amelia said, never looking up from her poetry.

"I didn't say anything," Erik growled from his organ.

"No, but you're getting tense," she replied. "You're worried that he's not going to show before Gaston returns. Well you're right. He won't. And when Gaston comes home and finds out I'm missing, he'll come for me."

"So you believe," Erik murmured under his breath.

"What do you mean?" Amelia asked.

"Your husband isn't the man you think he is," he answered. "And I highly doubt he's going to drop everything for you." Erik turned around to face her as he thought over her words. "And why are you so confident that your brother won't rescue you from his worst enemy?" He drew himself to his full height over her. "Are you hiding something?"

Amelia's eyes widened and she clutched the book to her chest in fear. She was clearly hiding something. "What did you do?" he screamed. Erik tore the journal from her grasp as Amelia fought to maintain a hold of it. In their struggle, a piece of paper fell from the book.

"No!" Amelia cried as Erik snatched it just before she did. He glanced over it and realized that it was the letter he thought he had delivered to the Vicomte over a week ago. Without even looking at him, Amelia bolted through the passage hidden behind the curtain.

"Get back here you little bitch!" he roared. Erik was determined to rip her limb from limb. Blinded by sheer rage, Erik gave chase. He knew that the passage forked soon. One led outside to the back alley behind the opera, but the other doubled back, taking the long way back upstairs, eventually merging with the passage that led towards the Prima Donna's dressing room. Either way, he needed to catch her before she escaped.

Through most of the passage, Amelia maintained just outside of his grasp. Erik realized that she was going to make it to the Prima Donna's dressing room. But it was a long distance to run and Amelia was winded from going up so many stairs. Just before she reached the mirror, Erik was able to lunge and grab her, clamping his hand over her mouth to muffle her screams. Her fingers just barely brushed against the glass as he yanked her backwards. "They can't hear you," he hissed in her ear. "No one can."

Amelia thrashed in his grasp as Erik dragged her away from the mirror. "Gaston!" she screamed as she saw her husband enter the room, but he stifled her cries.

"Just think, what is your husband doing in another woman's dressing room when he's not supposed to back for a few weeks?" Erik asked, but Amelia struggled against him. "Look!" Amelia went stiff in his arms and fell silent as she saw Violet Alonza in her husband's embrace. "See? He doesn't care. He's not coming for you."

She let out a muffled sob but didn't resume her struggling. Erik dragged her back downstairs, Amelia remaining limp. When they reached the lair, he threw her back on bed. He moved to tie her back up, but Amelia curled up into a ball and began to sob. Instead, Erik backed away and let her be.

As soon as he was back by his organ, Amelia rolled off of the bed. Erik swiped at her, but she dodged him yet again. This time, instead of going to the passage behind the curtain, Amelia ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Erik was about to leave because at least she was contained, when he heard the sound of breaking glass and her sobs intensified. Without thinking, he broke the door down, determined to find out what she was doing. His eyes widened as Erik saw Amelia curled up in a corner, a large glass fragment from a shattered perfume bottle leftover from Christine in her hand, and blood soaking the sleeves of her dress.


	12. Chapter 12

Erik stood there in shock as he processed the sight before him. It looked like Amelia had slit her wrists. Blood was pouring everywhere. He had to stop the bleeding if he wanted to keep her alive. But when he drew close, Amelia swung the glass fragment at him, barely missing him. Erik drew back, holding his hands up. "Put it down."

Amelia shook her head violently as she sobbed. "I can't."

He glanced at the ever growing puddle of blood. She was going to bleed to death if he didn't get her to let him approach. "Yes, you can," Erik said, adopting a more gentle tone. "Just let go of it." She shook her head again. "Amelia, please."

While he wasn't sure it was because of the shock of hearing him call her by her first name or something else entirely, Amelia let the glass slip from her hands and shatter into a million pieces on the floor. Erik dropped to his knees beside her and began to rip shreds of fabric from her skirts to use as bandages. He had some, but they were elsewhere in the lair, and Erik didn't have time to go get them.

She continued to sob, but didn't fight him until Erik moved to push her sleeves up so he could tend to her injuries. "No!" Amelia screamed, trying to pull away. Erik grabbed her arm and began to bind her wrists as tightly as possible to slow the bleeding. Once that was done, Erik felt it was safe enough to run and grab real bandages as well as a needle and a thread. He stuck the needle in a candle flame for a few seconds to sterilize it, before running back to stich her wounds shut and bandage them properly.

As he finished sewing the cuts shut, her eyes began close. Erik was afraid if she fainted from blood loss, she'd never wake up again. He tapped her cheek to keep her awake. "Stay with me," he ordered. Her head started to loll to the side, so Erik grabbed her chin and forced her to look him in the eyes. "Look at me Amelia!"

Once Erik was satisfied with how he had bandaged her wrists, he picked Amelia up and carried her back to the swan bed. She whined and protested weakly as he helped her out of the bloody dress and into her nightgown. "Don't touch me."

"You are _not_ getting blood everywhere," Erik growled. "So you can either put on the nightgown or sit here in your underclothes." When Amelia didn't argue further, Erik finished helping her change before grabbing a bowl of water and a rag.

"No," Amelia cried as she fought to get away from him.

Erik grabbed her and forced her to stay still. "Don't make this any harder. Otherwise this is just going to hurt you more. The worst of it is over anyway."

"Please don't," she whimpered as tears slid down her cheeks. Erik ignored her, grabbed her hand, and began to wash the blood from her arms. His eyes grew wide as he saw what she had been trying to hide from all along, why she constantly refused to be near him when she wore the short-sleeved nightgown, why she was so timid at night. Amelia's Barineau's arms were covered in scars, and based on the precision, spacing, and size, they were probably self-inflicted. It looked like Erik had discovered her secret. It wasn't her loveless marriage or her husband's affair, it was the fact she had been cutting herself.

He felt a rush of emotion as he saw the scars, although Erik wasn't sure if it was compassion, pity, or something else entirely. The last time he felt like this was when he saw a seven year child crying in the chapel for her recently deceased father and an angel of music that would never come. This was all his fault. He had been so focused on his own pain that he hadn't even realized that someone else might be suffering too. And he had practically thrown the affair in her face, forcing her to watch her husband be unfaithful. It was no wonder she tried to kill herself.

As Amelia continued to cry silently, Erik finished washing the blood away much more gently then he originally had. Looking into her eyes, he noticed shame burning in them. She was honest to God ashamed of her scars, like she shouldn't have attempted to find a way to end her pain. She curled up into a ball and closed her eyes. Since he had gotten the bleeding to stop, Erik allowed her to sleep.

After Amelia was fast asleep, Erik slipped the journal away from her and began to read her writing. He felt his stomach sinking like a rock as he read the poetry. All of it was full of self-loathing and disgust. It was then that Erik realized he had missed all the signs. Amelia hated herself.

Then he realized that Amelia Barineau wasn't the name she had written in the book. Instead she had written Mia de Chagny. It was like Amelia was her cold, unfeeling half, the poised, loyal, obedient wife, while Mia seemed to be the broken, hurting half. Erik wondered what on earth had happened to make her like this. Unless she had married Barineau ridiculously young, some of these scars were too old to be from after her marriage. There was clearly something going on in her family, but Raoul de Chagny had seemed so perfect and happy when he ripped Christine away. What was going on?

Erik flipped to her most recent poem, even though it was clearly unfinished.

_The snow glows white on the mountain tonight,  
not a footprint to be seen.  
A kingdom of isolation and it looks like I'm the queen.  
The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside.  
Couldn't keep it in, Heaven knows I tried.  
Don't let them in, don't let them see.  
Be the good girl you always have to be.  
Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know_

He swallowed hard as he identified another feeling: guilt. If he had even just opened this stupid book, Erik would have known instantly that she was going through this. Yes, she was a de Chagny, but even a de Chagny could only handle so much. It was a miracle that Amelia had held up so well standing up against him until now.

A few hours later, Erik was still studying the poems when he realized Amelia was stirring. She sat up and wrapped her arms around herself, staring at the book in his hands in horror. He handed it back to her slowly. Amelia hesitantly took it and watching him suspiciously for a moment. Once the book was back in her hands, Erik retreated to back to his organ, unsure what to say or do next. Neither of them noticed the abandoned letter to the Vicomte that had disappeared under the bed in the chaos.

* * *

_Well what does that mean? Is Erik going to realize the letter still hasn't been sent or his he going to finally start paying attention to Mia? I guess you'll have to wait until the next chapter to find out. Anyway, as some of you may know, Mia's poem is really__ from a song called_ Let it Go_ in__ the new movie _Frozen_, but as my English teacher once said, "What are good songs, but poetry set to music, and poetry is nothing but a song minus the music. And while this story was originally have a _Wicked_ flair to it (hence the title) I feel like _Frozen _fits just as well, if not better. Luckily, both Elsa and Elphaba have been done by Idina Menzel, so it's not too far off the mark. I hope you enjoy the story so far. Read and Review!  
~nibblesfan_


	13. Chapter 13

Something changed after the Phantom saw her scars. Mia could already tell that he looked at her differently now. Instead of hatred and disgust, there was something different in his eyes, although she couldn't tell what. The change actually surprised, most people had the opposite reaction when they saw her arms. Her own mother wouldn't allow her to show Gaston until their wedding night when it was too late for him to back out. She couldn't get his look of revulsion out of her head. Mia honestly believed that it was because of the scars that her marriage was so troubled.

She could feel him staring at her, his curious gaze burning into her back. "You want to know how I got these scars, don't you?" she said softly, finally breaking the unnatural silence that filled the air.

"I've figured that much out for myself," the Phantom answered. Mia turned to face him in surprise. "Anyone with eyes can tell that you did that to yourself. What I want to know is why. Why would a girl with a perfect life feel the need to cut herself?"

Mia brought her knees close to her chest and wrapped her arms around them tightly. "You imply, Monsieur, that I have a perfect life."

"Why wouldn't you?" the Phantom asked. Mia could hear the spite in his voice. "You're from one of the oldest families in France, married to a well-respected businessman, sister of a Vicomte."

"Stop!" Mia cried.

"You live a life of luxury, where, until now, your biggest problem was which gown you were going to wear to a party full of upper-class snobs just like you," the Phantom continued, rising from his seat.

She put her hands over her ears. "Stop it!" she begged.

The Phantom stormed over to her and yanked her hands away. "You're nothing but a spoiled child who knows nothing of true pain!"

Mia pulled her hands away and stood so that she was standing toe to toe with her captor. "And what do you know?" she shouted. "My mother sent me away because I wasn't good enough to be her child, she forbade me from poetry, the one thing I was good at, I was kicked out of finishing school over and over again for being too hopeless, my perfect brother got to marry the woman he loved while I was forced into a marriage I didn't want, only to have my husband be unfaithful!" Tears of anger slid down her face. "And then, after all of that, I've been kidnapped just because you don't like my brother. Well guess what! I don't either! I hate Raoul!"

Once she was finished with her rant, Mia dissolved into angry, bitter sobs. Her legs gave out beneath her and she unintentionally collapsed against the Phantom. Instead of shoving her away roughly like she expected, he maneuvered her so that she was sitting back on the bed. "I know I'm not supposed to hate him," she said, wiping her eyes. "That's why I switched the letters. I may hate him, but he's still my little brother. I had to try to protect him, whether I like him or not. That and it's my own fault I'm even in this mess. He kept telling me not to come here, that I would be putting myself in danger, but I came anyway out of spite."

She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stop the flood of words, but it was too late. "It wasn't anything that Raoul did, it wasn't his fault, but he was the favorite child by far. In my parents' eyes, he could do no wrong. It wasn't uncommon for Raoul and I to be doing something together, and I would be punished while he would be defended. Eventually I grew to resent him, especially after Mother sent me away. Even my marriage wasn't good enough for them. Mother told me if I were prettier and more ladylike, I would have attracted better suitors. When Christine came into the picture, it was my chance to be the good child, to have done something right since Raoul was marrying beneath him. Instead they just shrugged and decided he had always been foolhardy. When Gaston suggested that we replace Raoul as patron here, I leaped at the chance. It was my last chance to be better than Raoul, to succeed in something he had failed in, to be the child my parents weren't ashamed of."

Finally done pouring her heart out, Mia looked at anything and everything but the Phantom and sniffed, trying to regain control of herself and failing miserably at it. He stared at her silently for the longest time before Mia felt the softest touch on her shoulder. She risked glancing up and was surprised when the Phantom silently handed her a handkerchief before leaving the room.

* * *

As soon as Erik was in his own bedroom, he sat heavily on the bed, trying to process everything Amelia had just confessed to him. It explained a lot concerning Amelia, but it also complicated things for him. He knew that even though she clearly didn't get along with her brother, she would still try to sabotage Erik's attempts at killing the Vicomte. He needed to keep her under control certainly.

But perhaps her hatred for her brother was the key. Erik stood and began to pace. Yes maybe that was it. Small kindnesses seemed to gain leaps and bounds with Amelia, he realized as he remembered the grateful look in her eyes when he had handed her his handkerchief. If he could befriend her, sympathize with her, maybe, just maybe, he could convince her to turn against the Vicomte.

There was of course, one slight hitch to his plan. Erik had never had a friend before. Frankly, he didn't have the faintest idea how to make one either. Madame Giry was the closest thing he had ever had, and even she only served him out of fear, abandoning him when she saw the first opportunity. Erik wasn't sure he'd be able to befriend her, but it was better than nothing.

* * *

_Mia woke feeling heavy, like her body was made of lead. Glancing down, she could see her arms were heavily bandaged. She reached for the book of poetry beneath her pillow, but it wasn't there. Then it all came crashing back. Her mother burning the books, her stumbling across her father's razor, the maid's screams. _

_She closed her eyes and fell back against the pillows with a defeated sigh. Almost instantly she sat back up as she heard her mother fighting with a man. "Madame, I insist! Your daughter is clearly troubled and needs the help of a professional."_

"_You're suggesting that I put my daughter into an asylum." Mia held her breath, praying that her mother wouldn't agree. She wasn't insane! Surely her mother knew that! "Never!" She let out a sigh of relief until she heard her mother's next words. "Putting Amelia in an asylum would ruin our family! We'd be the subject of Parisian gossip forever! The de Chagny's and their mad daughter! I won't allow it her to slander our family's name. We'll keep her here, under close supervision, lock and key if we have to, but I'll not let her ruin us!"_

* * *

Mia woke with a gasp. She sat up slowly and began to rub her temples, trying to relieve the headache that was building. Every time she cut herself, she wound up reliving that day, the disappointment, the shame. That day she wasn't trying to kill herself, merely just find an outlet for the pain, but she had apparently lost too much blood and fainted.

Her mother had forced her to keep her scars hidden until she had married Gaston, and then he was the only person besides her parents, the doctor, and her maid, Hazel, to have ever seen them, until now. Not even Raoul knew about them. But now, the Phantom knew everything about her, and not just about the cutting. Mia knew should have kept better control of herself. If any of this ever got out, her mother would never forgive her and her family would be shamed forever.

She glanced up and nearly cried out in surprise when she saw the Phantom in the doorway. "I…I'm sorry Monsieur," Mia stammered, trying to get her pounding heart under control. "I didn't realize you were in here."

He walked over to his organ and refiled through some papers before locating whatever he was looking for. "I'm sorry. I just assumed you were asleep." The Phantom paused for a moment before leaving the room. "Good night Madame." Mia noticed that his voice wasn't dripping with sarcasm for once. She wondered what that could possibly mean.


	14. Chapter 14

Erik paced back and forth, glancing at the sleeping Amelia every so often. He was uncertain on how to attempt to befriend Amelia. It wasn't like they had gotten off to a rocky start or anything. Kidnapping the girl wasn't exactly the best way to go about this, but it was too late for that now. If he were to release her, she'd go running straight to the Vicomte. He couldn't exactly her let onto his plans either. If he were to be too obvious about his motives, Amelia would figure out his endgame.

Something small, that was probably the best way to go; just little things here and there to slowly earn her trust. Nothing too outright or extravagant. He would be subtle enough that Amelia wouldn't even realize what was happening.

After making sure once again that Amelia was asleep, Erik climbed into the boat and began to row across the lake. He took his time with the journey upstairs, double and triple checking to make sure he wasn't going to be discovered, even though it was early enough hardly anyone was awake yet.

He let himself into the costume closet to borrow another dress for Amelia since she had ruined the other one. At first, Erik grabbed a long sleeved one, since that seemed to be Amelia's preference, but then hesitated and grabbed one with short sleeves as well. If he could get Amelia comfortable having her scars exposed around him, it would put him leaps and bounds ahead.

Taking the dresses, Erik made one last stop in the Populaire's kitchen. It was already bustling with activity as they worked to prepare breakfast for the rest of the soon to be awake staff. He slipped unseen into the room, grabbed a nearby spoon and flung it across the room. It knocked over a bag of flour, which covered the whole counter in white powder. Once the staff was distracted, Erik swiped a plate of freshly baked croissants. A few minutes later, after the mess had been cleaned, one of the chefs realized that the plate was gone. As the baffled man began to search for the missing croissants, Erik made his way through the tunnels back home to his lair where Amelia was waiting for him.

* * *

For the first time since she had been taken, Mia woke up on her own, not to the Phantom slaving over his organ. She sat up and looked around cautiously, expecting the Phantom to be lurking nearby. To her surprise, Mia seemed to be alone.

Her stomach growled as her nose caught a whiff of what smelled like fresh, warm pastries. Mia tried to repress a groan. It seemed that either the Phantom had resorted to psychological torture or she was hallucinating since her diet since her kidnapping had consisted mostly of bread and what was probably, hopefully purified, lake water.

Looking up, she saw the Phantom returning in the boat. She watched him silently as he docked and climbed out. She leaned back and closed her eyes as she saw the plate of croissants in his hand. Torture it was. He was taunting her with what she couldn't have. So Mia was surprised when he dropped what looked like a couple of dresses beside her and handed her the plate. "What's this?"

"Clean clothes," he replied as he removed his cape with a flourish. "Seeing as you've managed to ruin the other dress."

"I meant this," Mia said, holding up the plate.

The Phantom glanced at her as though she were a simpleton before turning and draping his cape over the back of a chair. "Breakfast."

Mia glanced back down at the inviting, still-warm pastries. He was being uncharacteristically nice. Either it was due to pity or the food had been tampered with, and she wasn't about to take any chances. "Do you honestly expect me to believe you haven't put anything in them?"

He whirled back around and approached her suddenly. Mia cringed as his hand shot out, but instead of striking her like she feared, the Phantom merely snatched a croissant off of the plate and took a large bite. "Does that ease your mind?" he demanded.

She looked back down at the pastries then back up at the Phantom who was sitting back down at his organ. "Thank you," Mia whispered. His back visibly stiffened for a moment, before he shook his head, picked up his pen, and began to compose.

* * *

Erik sat at his organ, staring at his music in frustration. He had gotten the notes exactly how he wanted, which was a rare enough occurrence, but now he was stuck on the lyrics. Repeating the melody over and over again, Erik grew angrier and angrier as he tried to find the right words to express what he wanted. Finally he slammed his fists against the keys, stood, and began to pace, deep in thought.

Out of the corner of his eye, Erik saw Amelia stand and walk into the bathroom, a dress in hand. He wasn't too worried about her though. Last night while she slept, he had taken everything sharp or breakable in the lair and locked them away in his bedroom so she wouldn't have the ability to cut herself.

Murmuring potential lyrics under his breath, Erik continued pacing. Finally he thought he had something so he sat back down and was about to write it, when he realized it didn't match with the music quite right. "Dammit!" Erik shouted, pounding his fist against the top of the organ. The force knocked over his inkwell, dumping the black ink all over his lap, staining his shirt. He leaped to his feet, swearing profusely, and ripped his shirt and vest off in an attempt to keep the ink from getting onto his skin.

There was a sudden sharp gasp behind him. Erik glanced over his shoulder and saw Amelia staring at his scarred back with wide eyes. "What…?"

"Some of us didn't need to cut ourselves," Erik said staring hard at his music. "Unlike you, some of us had _other_ people to do that for us."

"What happened to you?" she asked in a hushed voice.

He sat back down at his organ slowly, refusing to look at her. "If you must know, at the age of nine, I ran away from home, and was taken hostage by a traveling gypsy fair where I spent the next several years locked in a cage, being tortured and whipped like an animal for the amusement of crowds of people just like _you_." Erik kept as matter-of-fact as he possibly could trying to establish distance between him and his own past, although his voice still held an edge of bitterness.

When he was certain that he was still in complete control of his emotions, Erik slowly stood and turned to face Amelia. She was staring at him wide-eyed, her hands pressed against her mouth in shock. She didn't seem to be able to speak. Erik raised his chin, staring her dead in the eye. He raised his eyebrow, challenging her. "Is there anything else you would like to know?"

"No," she squeaked.

"That's what I thought."


	15. Chapter 15

Erik could feel Amelia's eyes burning into his back. He couldn't focus on figuring out the lyrics with her looking at him like that, like a freak. Although he didn't know why it bothered him so much, she was a de Chagny, her opinion didn't matter. Besides, he needed to finish this song; he'd been working on it all day.

He began to play it again for what seemed like the thousandth time that day, but when he still couldn't think of decent lyrics, he stood and began to pace. Erik was so frustrated; the words were just beyond his reach.

"Have you tried…?" Amelia started, but Erik cut her off.

"I didn't ask for your opinion!" he snapped. Erik noticed that she was wearing the long-sleeved dress, but there was something different about her. After looking her over again, Erik realized that her hair was down. Every morning when she got dressed, Amelia would pin her hair up so that she still looked more like a socialite than a kidnapping victim. He took this as a sign that she was beginning to give up on the hope of rescue.

"Well I was just going to say that maybe some time away would do you some good. If you just sit there staring at it, you're not going to come up with anything, and it's obviously upsetting you. You've been growling at it all day. Sometimes when I'm stuck on my poetry, I just need to leave it for a while, and then come back to it later."

For a moment, Erik was about to snap at her again, when he realized she was probably right. He knew that Amelia just wanted him to leave so she could escape through the tunnel she had found behind the curtain. But Erik wasn't too concerned. He had taken care of that when she was asleep. "Fine. I'll be back within the hour."

The corners of Amelia's lips turned upwards ever so slightly, as she was unable to fully repress her emotions. "I'll be here," she replied.

"Oh yes you will," Erik murmured under his breath so Amelia couldn't hear as he climbed into the boat.

* * *

As soon as the Phantom was out of sight, Mia ran to the curtain that hid the entrance to the tunnel. She couldn't believe that the Phantom was stupid enough to leave her alone when they both knew she knew about the tunnel. All she had to do was get out of here and she would be free.

Feeling triumphant, Mia yanked the curtain away with a flourish. She stood there, utterly horrified as she revealed nothing more than her reflection. Mia moved each curtain aside, thinking that maybe she had picked the wrong one, but she revealed nothing more but shattered glass and broken mirrors. "No!" she cried, pounding her fists against the fresh glass. "How is this even possible?!" Somehow, someway, the Phantom had managed to put up a mirror to block the tunnel without her knowledge.

She began to search for a handle, a switch, a lever, _anything_ to get the mirror to open. Surely the Phantom wouldn't trap them both in here with nothing but the lake to leave. Especially if something, an angry mob for example, were to storm the lair, he'd be trapped.

After searching for what seemed like forever, Mia still hadn't managed to find any way to get the mirror to move. Sick of feeling trapped, Mia grabbed a nearby candelabra off of the Phantom's organ and tried to smash the mirror with it. However instead of breaking the glass, the candelabra simply bounced off it. She tried again and again, but with no success. "That bastard!" she cried, allowing the candelabra to drop from her hands. Mia sank to her knees and buried her face in her hands, trying not to cry. "What kind of glass even is this?!"

Finally admitting defeat, Mia reluctantly sighed and stood. No wonder the Phantom had left her so willingly. There was no way she could get away from here, short of going through the lake and facing whatever was in it and risk being drowned. She was officially the Phantom's prisoner until he allowed her to go or someone came to rescue her. Mia could only pray that Gaston returned home soon and discovered her absence. Mistress or no, he was her only hope right now.

Mia began to pace, unsure of what to do next. Her gaze finally settled on the Phantom's music. Even though he had no clue what he wanted for lyrics, she had heard him play it so many times, she had four different sets, although she wasn't sure if it was even close to what he had in his mind. She picked up the music and began to thumb through what he had already written. Mia quickly glanced over her shoulder to make sure he wasn't coming back yet before picking up his pen.

* * *

Erik slipped through the mirror in Violet's dressing room after rehearsal had ended for the day. He was about to head back down to Amelia when Barineau and Violet entered the room. "You know," Gaston said in-between kisses. "We can't keep this up forever. Sooner or later people are going to start to talk. And eventually my wife is going to notice that I'm still not home."

"Surely you could spare a _few_ more nights..." Violet whined.

Barineau leaned in for another kiss before running his hands through her hair. "I suppose I could, but only for you my darling."

"When are you going to leave your wife for me?" Violet asked, pulling away suddenly.

"Vi..." Barineau sighed.

"You promised me you would Gaston!"

"I know darling, but these things take time. Just be patient with me." Erik snorted. If he had a franc for every time he heard those words, he wouldn't need his salary. Once Barineau got bored with his mistress, he'd move on to the next willing girl. And there would always be one, since Barineau had money, power, and influence within the Populaire. There were a large number of girls willing to provide "favors" for advanced positions within the cast.

"Fine, but I'm not going to wait forever!"

"Don't worry Vi, I'll take care of it. Trust me."

"Alright Gaston," Violet said smiling and leaning in for another kiss.

Erik's nostrils flared in disgust as he turned and began to make his way back to his lair. As someone who would never be able to have the luxury of love or marriage, he had no idea why anyone would be willing to squander it.

No sooner than the lair came into sight, Erik spotted Amelia sitting at his organ, with his music and a pen in her hands. "No!" he roared, leaping out of the boat. Erik ripped the paper from her hands yanked it away, twisting his fingers in her hair to pull her away from his organ. "What have you done?!"

Amelia screamed in pain, as Erik's eyes darted over the music to how she had ruined it. "I was just trying to help," she gasped.

"How could you possibly..." Erik's voice trailed off as he saw what exactly she had done. She had written in the lyrics he had been looking for, and they matched the music perfectly. He released the girl, allowing her to drop to the ground. She began to crawl backwards away from him. "I...I'm sorry," he said softly. "I shouldn't have done that."

"Do you know what your problem is?" Amelia whispered as she retreated across the room, back to her poetry. "You love too much. My problem is I don't love enough. I'm afraid of getting hurt so I come across as cold and bitter, which I probably am. But you love too much. You throw your heart and soul into whatever you love, and you latch on and won't let it go. You're afraid of loss so you love to death. That's what happened just now with your music, and that's where you went wrong with Christine. I don't doubt you love her, but you were so afraid of losing her, you smothered her. She was afraid of you because you were so afraid of losing her. You followed her, limited her time away from you, spent all your time and energy helping her, trying to win her to the point you were stalking her, and it frightened her. It still frightens her."

"What do you know?" Erik demanded.

"More than you apparently," Amelia answered. "I'm at least willing to admit my faults." Erik rolled his eyes before beginning work on his next piece.


End file.
